bloomsday= epic
title really says all, but i will post more later tonight i just wanted to make a quick list of things i want to write about and figured after seeing so many journals and notebooks etc in dublin i should put the process on the net for all to enjoy watching the evolution of the creative act, and that leads right into the first thing i want to say and its me having a good old rant about my friend and yours--poetry, how silly and sucky it is and i will, as evidence, post two i scribbled up in the dublin airport as a way to kill time and show that with not much work you can come up with something sort of poetic but really, upon closer inspection, is just garbage. but that is the state of poetry, i think, anyway. then there is the epic that was bloomsday and the two half days surrounding it, the night back, when i got home and got so effing trashed out of my mind, like 2 bottles of cheap, inexpensive rose in about an 1hour maybe an hour and a half, and how much my body hates me at this very moment. o, and how i dont like finding chips and cheese all over my floor, in spite of the fact that i did nto get kebab last night. o, and also, how i dont like my computer being flipped off my desk and now almost completely busted....that said, i am going to go have my last pauper with ash.